


Interior Decorating: Another Screenplay

by Ultima_Thule



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Encom shenanigans, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultima_Thule/pseuds/Ultima_Thule
Summary: Sam Flynn's first executive decisions on becoming CEO of Encom.
Relationships: Alan Bradley & Sam Flynn, Lora Baines-Bradley/Alan Bradley
Kudos: 24





	Interior Decorating: Another Screenplay

SAM scans into Encom tower and slowly makes his way down the hall. It is his first day as Encom’s CEO. He is rethinking every decision he’s ever made in his entire 27 years of life. ALAN enters the building behind him.

ALAN: “Well, Sam, today’s the big day.”

SAM (sighing): “Yep.”

SAM and ALAN enter the elevator, which takes four minutes to arrive. SAM checks his watch around the three-minute mark.

ALAN: “Some things never change.”

SAM: “Heh.”

ALAN: “Try punching it, that usually works.”

SAM: “I’m not gonna—”

ALAN raises his eyebrows.

SAM smiles, and lifts his fist to bang on the impassive, silver doors.

The elevator instantly arrives.

ALAN: “What I tell ya?”

SAM laughs, pressing the button for the top floor. They stand in silence for a few moments. Then ALAN shifts his feet, shoves his hands in his pockets, and clears his throat. SAM braces himself.

ALAN: “I’m proud of you, Sam.”

SAM nods.

ALAN: “ _He_ would be, too.”

SAM: “Yeah, well.” (SAM clears his throat) “Hopefully that’s still true by the end of the day.”

Finally, the elevator reaches the top floor. They walk down the hall towards the Board Members conference room, glancing at the stark décor as they go.

SAM: “Well, there’s one thing that’s got to go.”

SAM slows to a halt, pointing at a painting of black squares.

SAM: “The frick is this? An aesthetically pleasing QR code?”

ALAN (shrugging): “Not my field of expertise.”

SAM: “I think even _you_ could come up with something better than this.”

SAM walks over to a black statue in the corner and leans forward, squinting at it.

SAM: “If you took a bunch of pictures of inkblot tests, rocks, and ancient pottery, fed those photos to an AI and told it to figure out what a human looks like, _this_ would be the result.”

ALAN: “I think you’ve just described the exact thought process used by Mackey’s design team.”

SAM: “Like, if you handed out modeling clay to a bunch of preschoolers… told them to make some farm animals out of it… and then took all their creations and shoved them together into one big clump and dumped some tar on it… this is what you would get.”

ALAN: “Again. Mackey’s design team.”

SAM sighs, and the two of them walk farther on, towards the door of the conference room.

SAM (unlocking the door): “Haven’t been here on serious business for a while.”

ALAN: “Hm.”

SAM and ALAN walk into the conference room. The lights are out, and the shades are drawn. It is pitch black.

SAM: “Can we get a light?”

SAM and ALAN flick on all the light switches. The only things illuminated are the projector, a lightstrip across the center of the table, some backlit cabinets, and a light above Mackey’s chair at the head of the table. It is still impossibly dark in the room.

SAM: “Okay. Okay. All right. That does it.”

SAM stomps over to the far side of the room and yanks up the first shade. Bright light floods in from the outside world, and ALAN shields his eyes, grinning.

SAM: “There is absolutely _no_ reason—” (SAM yanks up the second shade) “—Why we need to have our meetings in the dark.” (SAM yanks up the third shade) “You can’t see anything.” (SAM yanks up the fourth shade) “Everyone gets headaches from reading and squinting at their screen in the dark.” (SAM yanks up the fifth shade, and the cord breaks in his hand) “Of all the dumb things Mackey did to this company, making it the standard to hold meetings in the impractical _dark_ , for the _aesthetic_ , has got to be one of the worst.” (SAM stares at the broken cord in his hand for a moment)

ALAN has taken a seat at the table. He leans back, smiling at SAM.

ALAN: “Anything else?”

SAM: “Yeah. Point me to the conference room, Alan; I need some coffee before I strangle Mackey with this blind cord and fire everyone in this building.”

ALAN (laughing): “You got it, boss. Down that hallway, count three doors, turn left.”

SAM grunts, and begins to walk out the door.

ALAN: “Oh, Sam…”

SAM: “Yes?”

ALAN: “Maybe you better leave that blind cord in the trash.”

SAM grins, tosses the blind cord in the trash can, and leaves the room.

ALAN goes over to the window, and squints out at the bright, beautiful morning. He pulls out his phone, and texts a contact labeled simply “The Best”.

_Good morning, beautiful – though I guess it’s a good afternoon where you are._

_Today is gonna be one of the good ones._

_A Flynn has taken back his rightful place. All’s right with the world.  
  
  
  
_/end of line

**Author's Note:**

> an exercise in screenplay writing that belongs somewhere other than the depths of a file system, collecting digital dust


End file.
